~*****~

Dean's thankfully uninjured-- save for the massive headache he'd sustained from cracking against that tombstone. He's sprawled out on my lap, face pressed in my chest as if I were helping his headache. I glance up as the door opens, my smile slipping almost immediately. "How you doing?" Sam asks.

"I'm in pain, that's how I'm doing." Dean says in a muffled tone. "I think I have a concussion."

"You didn't heal it for him?" Sam asks as he gazes at me.

"I tried, but he insisted this was a better way. Besides, I spent most of my energy calming Mary down enough to get her to sleep." I say as I gesture to the crib. "So... Demons, huh?"

"Yeah, so much for miracles..." Sam sighs.

"And what the hell happened to Alastair again?" Dean asks.

I glared at Sam for a few moments before sniffing loudly and began scratching at Dean's back. "I told you, he tried to fling me, or whatever, and it didn't work, so he bailed."

Dean grunted and flopped onto his back, now completely lounging on me as if I were a set of pillows. "Well, how come he couldn't fling you? He chucked you pretty good last time. Hell, Lottie said he flung her."

Sam shrugged. "Got no idea."

Dean huffed and sat up, perching on the edge of the bed. "Sam, do me a favor. If you're gonna keep your little secrets, I can't really stop you, but just don't treat me like an idiot, okay?"

"What? Dean, I'm not keeping secrets." Sam retorted defensively.

Dean hummed. "Whatever. So, did you go back and Q-and-A the dead kid?"

"Didn't have to." Sam shrugged. "Bobby called. He did some digging."

"And?"

"He thinks Lottie's right. Local Reapers gone. Not just gone-- kidnapped." Sam explains.

"By demons? Why?" Dean asked.

"Listen to this," Sam says as he cracks open the book he'd been carrying. "And he bloodied death under the newborn sky-- sweet to taste, but bitter when once devoured."

"Swanky. What the hell does that mean?"

"Well, it's from a very obscure, very arcane version of Revelations." Sam explains.

"Which means this is another damn seal, isn't it?" I groan. "So- So what, you kill a reaper under the solstice moon-- which should be tomorrow night, because our luck is just completely fucked-- and another seal breaks."

"How do you ice a reaper? You can't kill death." Dean comments.

"I don't know. Maybe demons can. Where the hell are the angels is what I want to know." Sam sighs. "We could use their help for once."

"Yeah, I'm kinda juiced out." I huff irritably as I palm at my face for a moment. "Looks like we gotta take care of this ourselves."

"What are we gonna do? Just wing in and save the friendly neighborhood reaper?" Sam asks.

"You gotta better idea, we're all ears." Dean defends me.

"Guys, reapers are invisible, the only people that can see them are the dead and the dying." Sam states.

"That's not a bad idea," I hum. "If ghosts are the only ones who can see them-- and seeing as how death and I are kinda on bad terms, you two boys get to be ghosts for an evening."

"I thought Dean had the concussion." Sam comments.

"I know it's all kinds of bat shit crazy,"

"It is... how are we gonna do it?" Sam asks.

"The one and only Pamela Barnes." I say with a smirk.

~*****~

"I can't even begin to tell you how crazy you two are." Pamela comments as she enters our room with Dean. "Give me the baby." Pamela says as she walks straight towards me. I snort and gently lower her into her arms.

"Well, Pamela, you're a sight for sore eyes," Sam says.

"That's sweet, grumpy," Pamela says to Sam as she tilts her glasses down just a bit. "What do you say to deaf people? Which one of you brainiacs came up with astral projection?"

"Me." I retort sheepishly.

Pamela scoffs. "Of course, Chachi." I choke back a chuckle. "So, let's be clear-- You want to rip your souls out of your bodies, and take a little stroll through the spirit world." We hum in response. "Do you have any idea how heavy-duty insane that is?"

"Maybe, but that's where the reaper is, so..." Dean trails off.

"So, it's nuts." Pamela says.

"Not if you know what you're doing." I say quickly.

"Neither of them know what they're doing." Pamela corrects me.

"No... but you do." I say sweetly.

"Yeah, I do. And guess what? I'm sick of being hauled back into your angel-demon, soc-greaser crap." Pamela comments.

"Look, I'd love to be kicking back with a cold one, watching judge judy, too." Dean retorts.

"Nice, more blind jokes?" Pamela asks.

"You know what I mean. We're talking the end of the world here, okay? No more tasseled leather pants, no more Ramones CD's, no more nothing. We need your help." Dean pleads.

Pamela sighs, and angles her face down at Mary, who's just tugging at her hair. "God, this is insane..." She says heavily and deposits the baby back into my arms. "Let's get started."

~*****~

"Tell me something, geniuses. Even if you do break into the veil, and you find the Reaper, how you gonna save it?" Pamela questions as the boys move around the motel room, lighting candles and drawing the curtains.

Dean beams. "With style and class."

Pamela snorts. "You're gonna be two walking pieces of fog who can't touch or move anything. You'll be defenseless, hotshot."

"I seem to recall a bunch of ghosts beating the crap out of us." Sam says smugly.

"Yeah, but they had plenty of time to practice." Pamela sighs.

"Well, then I guess we better start cramming." Dean sighs.

"Wow... a couple of heroes. All right. Lie down. Close your eyes." Pamela pats the beds. "Since you can't detach your soul from your body, you're going to be helping me." I hum in response and step away from Mary's crib. Once Sam and Dean are on the beds, Pamela grasps my hand tightly, squeezes once, then releases me. "Animum vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. Vis, Vis, Vis. Okay guys. That's it. Showtime."

I heave a soft sigh. "All right, we're assuming you're somewhere over the rainbow. Remember, Pamela has to bring you back. She'll whisper the incantation in your ear." Pamela gets up, and I vaguely hear her mention Sam's ass. I chuckle and shake my head at her. "Don't do anything stupid, and for god's sake, do not piss off the reaper when you free it."

Pamela sits back down on the chair between the beds. "I'm gonna say it again... this is a crazy ass plan."

"Look, if anything, I can go in after them--"

"You can't detach your spirit from your body." Pamela comments.

I shrug. "Yeah, but I'm technically Jesus, so I can do whatever I want."

Pamela snorts. "Don't suppose Jesus could whip up a pair of eyes for me, can you?"

I shrug. "I... I can try." I say softly. I press my palms against her face, and concentrate. It started as a strange buzzing noise in the back of my head. I try desperately to build eyes for her, but it just fizzles away. "I'm... I'm sorry." I say lightly.

Pamela grasps my hands softly and pats them. "It's okay, kid. It's strange, but I could feel-- I could feel you trying. Like a warm feeling flooding into my face."

I smile. "Thank you..." I say softly. "It's not like those blowhard Christians say. I can't walk on water for starters-- and let me tell you, when I found out, I tried walking on the damn lake." Pamela began to laugh. "I got the taste of lake water down my throat for days."

"Eh, that whole book is blown out of proportion. I mean, Angel's melt eyeballs." Pamela comments.

I chuckle. "I know."